


Shattered

by Liz2010



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Fear, Good Alpha Derek Hale, Hostage Situations, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pack Feels, Shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:56:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27213787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liz2010/pseuds/Liz2010
Summary: “All these animal attacks lately. It’s so awful.” Deputy Ramirez gave him a familiar pitying look.  “Field and Wildlife said they have never seen anything like it.”Isaac just wanted to deal with the paperwork for his father's death, but somehow ends up with a boyfriend. It would be great, if it weren't for the man with a gun trying to kill them.
Relationships: Isaac Lahey/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 3
Kudos: 145





	Shattered

**Author's Note:**

> As always, this fic is not beta read and all mistakes are mine. I own nothing at all. Please read the tags for possible trigger warnings.

“Again we’re very sorry for your loss.”

Isaac twisted his face to show an appropriate amount of grief. “Thank you.”

“All these animal attacks lately. It’s so awful.” Deputy Ramirez gave him a familiar pitying look. “Field and Wildlife said they have never seen anything like it.”

Isaac managed not to roll his eyes at her naivete. Of course no one had seen anything like it. The things of nightmares had come to life and they were roaming the streets of Beacon Hills. No one, not even the cops, had a chance in this horrible town. His father’s death was just one in a long list of many. 

But hopefully things would get better soon. Jackson was no longer a kanima, but another blue-eyed werewolf. Gerard was dead. Chris and Allison buried him on the edge of the preserve. The alpha pack that had been roaming the outskirts of town had apparently moved on, letting Erica and Boyd go after Chris and Derek formed a tentative alliance. They both came running home, metaphorical tails between their legs. 

The pack was actually doing better now that no new problems had popped up in a few weeks and everyone could learn their place in a proper pack. Erica was still a spitfire but no longer aggressively cruel, trying desperatly to prove her worth to a distant alpha. Boyd was still a silent tower, but his silence was no longer mocking but instead almost comfortable. 

Jackson was the most changed. His experience being used led to him being unnaturally quiet and almost contrite. He was fitting in well, especially now that Lydia had joined the pack, her newfound powers blooming nicely. 

Scott continued to be pack adjacent, though Derek was pretty pissed at the way he used the bite for his own needs, so he wasn’t currently welcome in the loft. Peter was the same, hovering out the outskirts of the pack, neither in nor out. 

Derek had stepped up as a leader. His moodiness was still ever present, but he at least started trying. He let Lydia into the pack so Jackson didn’t feel so alone. He made sure everyone went to school and did their homework, in addition to training with their new powers. They even hung out for fun, going out to eat after training most nights or sometimes ordering in. They even went to a movie once. 

The downside was, now that life had calmed down, they had time to deal with the mundane and unpleasant things of life. Like how to explain to Erica’s parents she didn’t need her epilepsy meds anymore. Or the fact that Jackson was failing nearly every class and might get held back. Boyd was being recruited for lacrosse but didn’t want to play so the jocks were being jerks to him constantly. 

Or the fact that Isaac was now an orphan. He had a lot to deal with, the house, the family business, the funeral. Isaac was currently staying with Derek, who was helping him with the details, but it was a lot of legwork. The police paperwork to officially declare his dad’s dead an accident and to officially clear Isaac’s name was just the first stop of many on this rainy Thursday night. 

“Mr. Lahey.” Deputy Ramirez said patiently, and Isaac had a feeling this wasn’t the first time she had called his name. “If you can just sign here, I’ll go make a copy of this form and we will be all done.”

“Sure.” Isaac signed and was left alone to stew, turning the pen over in his hands as he waited, more than ready to leave. 

“Hey Debbs. Is my dad in?”

Isaac looked up, not at all surprised by the sound of Stiles’ rather loud voice breaking up the silence of the nearly empty office. His dad worked here after all, and he knew the only way Stiles got to see his dad when they were both awake was to come to where he worked.

But the Sheriff was gone. He had been there when Isaac first walked in, assuring him that he was no longer a murder suspect and that his father’s death had been ruled an accident. But before they got any paperwork done he had been called out to a robbery, leaving Isaac with Ramirez.

Hopefully Stiles would just leave once he found out his dad wasn’t in. Isaac wasn’t in the mood to talk to him, or anyone else, not today. Not with all the emotions talking about his dad’s death brought up. He hunched down further in his chair, trying even harder not be noticed. 

Stiles had been a bit of a problem for Isaac lately. 

It wasn’t that Isaac didn’t like Stiles. They had been friendly enough in elementary and middle school, often thrust together as park of the dead mom’s club, making “Parent’s day cards” on Mother’s Day because teachers didn’t know what else to do. 

And Stiles never was mean to Isaac, even as they got older. Sarcastic yes. But never cruel in the unique way high school students can be. Never treated him like he was practically invisible in high school. 

He always said hi in the hallway, made a happy face if they got partnered together during class, and passed him the ball when both of them actually got off the bench during lacrosse.

But they never really clicked. Stiles was too loud and too spastic. He was aggressively friendly with everybody, but it always seemed a little too over the top. He screamed to be noticed by anyone and everyone. Isaac was just one of many.

But while Stiles needed to be noticed, Isaac prayed not to be. He only nodded when Stiles said hi, never passed the ball back on the field. He knew that if they were truly friends, it would only be days before Stiles figured out what was going on at his house. And Isaac couldn’t risk it. 

Stiles was now leaning over the desk, hair dripping water from the storm outside, talking animatedly with the ancient receptionist who according to her nameplate was named Debbie but whom Stiles called Debbs. His long fingers tapped out a rhythm and his throat was long, thrown back in a laugh as she showed him videos of cats on her phone.

Derek said that a wolf knew only two types of people. Pack and not pack. Isaac loved his new pack. He felt safe and accepted, which was more than his could ever say about his actual family. Sure, they were dysfunctional, how could they not be, but they still came together when they needed each other. 

Stiles wasn’t pack, same as Scott and Peter, hell even Allison. They stayed on the fringes, all the betas hyper aware of the wrongness in the mood whenever they were around, metaphorical hackles raised. It was only the human parts of their brains that allowed for the distinction of acquaintances, estranged family members, or of allies that kept fights from breaking out.

The only difference between Scott, Peter and Stiles, was that everyone wanted Stiles to be pack. Erica and Boyd were constantly reaching out, trying to scent him or lying next to him when he came over. It had only gotten extremely noticeable after their time being tortured together, their wolves howling in solidarity of their pain, needing constantly to see that Stiles was alright. 

Jackson stopped being such an ass, mostly by ignoring Stiles instead of antagonizing him. Lydia started acknowledging him, apparently more aware of the only person in their class who could keep up with her intelligence. She would often start debates with him, seemingly for the fun of having somehow who could keep up, eyes sparkling as Stiles went off on tangent after tangent. 

Derek looked to him for all kinds of help, for research, for help making plans, to keep the mood light when things got tense between the wolves. He even tried to order him around, tried to treat him like one of his beta’s, eyes flashing red and stalking off when Stiles inevitably ignored the order and did what he wanted. 

Isaac didn’t do any of these things. He wanted to. He wanted to pull the human into the pack like the others were trying so hard to do, but he couldn’t, because he knew that if he touched him, he would never stop. 

Because the wolf in his brain wanted to pin Stiles down and nuzzle into his neck, to breathe in that scent that was sweet sugar, mint shampoo, the faint tang of medication, the scent of pure Stiles. He wanted to lick him clean and bring him food and make him laugh. 

But realistically, Isaac knew Stiles didn’t see him like that. He was Isaac, the sarcastic boy with the dry wit who was trying to get between him and Scott. 

He wasn’t really. Scott was nice enough, if a little dull, and he would be a decent packmate. But Isaac was sure that if he could get Scott in the pack, Stiles would follow. But Scott was so fucking stubborn, so sure that his was the best way, even if he was months away from going omega from the lack of pack bounds. Isaac was wearing Scott down, but it was slow, and he wanted Stiles right now. 

It was confusing for them all. Because the wolf in every pack member said Stiles should be pack, was already pack really. But the human parts knew better, and it was tearing them apart. 

“You need to put Mr. Pickles on Youtube Debs. Other people need to see this little guy! He’s the best cat ever. If you ever need me to watch him, you know I can. Like when you go to Montana to visit your daughter next month.”

Debbie laughed, opening the wooden gate that led to the bullpin to let him in. “That is so sweet dear, but you know last time you tried to babysit the cats, your dad had an allergic reaction. He looked like he was stung by wasps.”

Stiles chuckled. “That was pretty funny.”

“It was not young man. I heard about it for weeks.”

“Alright fine. No cats then. But I will be over to water the plants and stuff. I know you are particular about your orchids. 

“Well, isn’t that nice of you. That would be wonderful. Now go wait for your dad, quietly. No funny business this time.”

Stiles dramatically grabbed his chest. “You wound me Debra. I would never participate in any sort of funny business.”

Debbie swatted at him as he walked by then went back to her work with a smile on her face. Stiles walked to the back, trading hellos with the other two officers who were working at their desks. He made it all the way to his dad’s office before he noticed Isaac frozen in his chair. He did a double take, backpack bounding erratically where it hung off one shoulder, before strolling over. 

“Isaac! What are you doing here?”

Isaac fixed him with a flat stare. “I’m here for the food and the ambiance.”

Stiles raised a brow in a way that was way too reminiscent of Derek. He folded her arms and leaned against the wall, simply waiting.

Isaac relented, slightly unnerved by his uncharacteristic quietness. “I’m finishing up the paperwork to declare my dad’s death an animal attack.”

“Oh.” Stiles didn’t look nearly as upset as everyone else normally did when Isaac talked about his dead father, but he didn’t push it either.

“Alright Isaac,” Deputy Ramirez walked back to the desk, ignoring Stiles completely. “All you need to do it take this to the coroner’s office. The Sheriff called in a favor, so they will release the death certificate immediately. Do you have someplace to stay until you get all of this straightened out? Just because your eighteen doesn’t mean you don’t need help. I don’t want you to be alone.”

Derek’s broody face came to mind. “I’m staying with a friend.”

Stiles snorted as Isaac got up. “Hell of a friend. But I guess it’s a step up from your last home.”

A sudden burst of anger at Stiles’ attitude had Isaac struggling not to flash his eyes. He kept his eyes down as he grabbed his bookbag off the floor and took the form from Deputy Ramirez. He brushed past Stiles, pushing him hard enough to make the human stumble as he stormed past the reception desk. He stood and waited close enough to the door to hear the Camaro pull up. He was too angry at Stiles tactlessness to be in the office properly, but not angry enough to want to wait in the pouring rain.

The minuets ticked by and Isaac calmed down enough to sit in one of the visitors chairs. Isaac wished Derek had a phone he could call to tell him he was done, but his alpha was basically a cave man and refused to join this century. So, he was stuck waiting.

“Hey.” Stiles sunk down in the chair beside him.

Isaac rolled his eyes even as he heart jumped. “Did I do something to make you think I wanted to spend time with you?”

“Nope,” Stiles popped the p. “But when have I ever cared about that? Waiting on Derek?”

Isaac had already texted Erica, Boyd and Jackson, but Derek wasn’t with any of them, which usually meant he was out running the territory. He could be gone for hours. “He’ll be here.”

“I would give you a ride, but the Jeep is acting up. It’s dead in the parking lot. I’m waiting on my dad to give me a ride, actually. Bet he would drop you off too. Don’t want you to walk home in this.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine.”

Stiles shrugged. “Alright, whatever. Hey are you hungry? I’ve got snacks. Well, they’re my dad snacks, but he isn’t supposed to have them, so they are being commandeered for the greater good.”

Isaac only hesitated for a second. He was pretty hungry-he basically always was. It was one of the many downsides of lycanthropy. “Fine.”

“Great. You can help me with this stupid Lit paper Mrs. James assigned. Shakespeare is dumb. It’s not meant to be read, by it’s meant to be preformed, not to mention totally impropriate for high school students. Did you know that die was Elizabethan for orgasm? So like half the times when a guy says he will die for his woman, he totally means come on her. Or in her. But I don’t think Mrs. James will want to hear about that. She is always talking about the genius of Shakespeare and how no one can ever truly understand him. I can understand. He was a perv.”

Isaac couldn’t help the small smile, standing and following Stiles back to the Sheriff’s office. Stiles was simply incorrigible when he wanted something, and right now he apparently wanted to make up for being an ass by being extra overbearing and talkative. 

Stiles shut the door to the office but left the blinds on door and windows that overlooked the department open. Stiles gestured at him to take a seat on the small loveseat that was scattered with various chips. He pulled a package of cookies out of his dad’s desk and threw them to Isaac then sat down as well as they both got out their books and began to work. 

They worked surprising well together. Isaac took Stiles essay and fixed it, editing the many trains of thought until there was a decent thesis to work with. Stiles got started on their Chemistry homework, explaining it much better than Mr. Harris ever did, all while simultaneously devouring the chips, tapping his pencil and texting Scott. 

Once they finished that, Stiles worked on Algebra, muttering his way through the problems, while Isaac continued work on his economics project, a real-life business plan for the graveyard that his teacher was helping him with. 

It was nice to be sitting there snacking and working. It felt peaceful and like something Isaac could get used to. Stiles’ scent had taken on a contented smell, like paper and cinnamon and it was all Isaac could do not to rub his face in his neck. He was starting to hope that Derek never showed up and he could catch a ride home with Stiles, just to be able to stay close to him a little longer. 

“I’m not sorry about you dad.” Stiles said suddenly. 

Isaac looked up and blinked, taking a moment to switch gears from homework to talking. 

“I’m not. I’m mean, I’m sorry you lost him and that you’re hurt, but he deserved to die. He was a terrible person.”

Isaac leaned away from Stiles, having unconsciously moved closer to him while they were working. “You don’t know that. He could have been the perfect dad. He was a pillar of the community, a local business owner, and beloved high school coach.”

“Oh, come on. He beat the shit out of you all the time. He was scum.”

Isaac flinched, then hunched down on himself. Derek knew the truth, and Erica and Boyd had puzzled out part of it, but he didn’t think anyone else had. 

“Who told you?”

“No one had to tell me. I’ve seen enough abuse victims at the jail to know when someone is being hit.”

“You never said anything.”

Stiles shrugged. “We were young, and I didn’t have proof. My dad filed a report with CPS when I first told him, but nothing came of it. So I called the police department anonymously to request a wellness visit whenever you didn’t show up to school.”

A mix of emotions bubbled in Isaac’s gut. He remembered those visits, the cops coming to the door and Isaac having to stand there and hide his injuries, so no one suspected. 

“You did?”

“Yeah. It was all I could think to do.” Stiles eyes were practically golden they were so bright as he looked at Isaac earnestly. “I care about you. I always did. I just. I didn’t want to pressure you. You were so determined to stay away from the Stilinski freak, so I let you.”

“You aren’t a freak. And that’s not why I stayed away.”

“Then why?”

Isaac didn’t think. He moved forward, desperately pressing their lips together, hands on Stiles hips as he pulled them close together. Stiles reciprocated eagerly, lips parting as they explored each other. They shifted on the couch until Stiles was flat on his back, Isaac bracketing him. Isaac moaned, his wolf satisfied for once, as he his human flushed, lips swollen, and pupils blown. He thrust against the Stiles, desperatly trying to get friction. 

Stiles’ scent suddenly went muddy and he stopped kissing back. Isaac hesitated, unsure of what the issue was.

“No.” Stiles murmured, then again, more forcefully. “No.”

Isaac was off of him in an instant, face blazing as guilt burned at him. He moved to the far side of the couch, hunching in on himself. 

He knew better. He was stronger than Stiles now and he shouldn’t have moved so fast. He should have asked first, should have paid more attention to Stiles, to makes sure he really wanted this. After all “I care about you” doesn’t mean “kiss me.” Derek cared about him, but they weren’t about to make out.

“Oh my God.” Stiles had his head in his hands, tugging at his hair before he looked up with blurry eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Isaac was confused. He should be the one apologizing. 

“I didn’t mean for it to be this way. I shouldn’t have moved so fast. You were just so pretty and you smelled so good and when you leaned in. I got carried away.”

“Wait, you wanted to kiss me?

Stiles lifted an eyebrow. “I always want to kiss you.”

“Then why did you say no?”

“Because.” Stiles slid over on the couch and grabbed Isaac’s hand. “Because I don’t want it hot and heavy on the couch in my dad’s office. I want to take you on a date, Isaac. I want to get to know you. The real you. The one you hide from the world.”

Isaac smiled so hard his face hurt. “I want that too.”

“Great.” Stiles picked up his pen with his free hand, drumming it slightly as his heart went a mile a minute. “Great. Okay. Let’s finish up homework. Then tomorrow, I’ll take you out. Assuming my Jeep is fixed by then.”

“It’s a date.”

They went back to work, hands still intertwined and Isaac smiling so broadly his face hurt. 

\-------  
Nearly an hour had passed with still no sign of Derek or the Sheriff. They had finished all their homework, even working ahead a little bit so they woudn’t have to worry about it on the upcoming weekend. Especially now that they had plans. 

But they got distracted after a while and ended up shoulder to shoulder watching videos on Stiles phone, laughing and still snacking. It was wonderful, to be able to touch Stiles, to get his scent all over him. Almost as good as the kissing. Almost. 

But the rain was letting up and Isaac knew he needed to be getting home soon, either by catching a ride or running. He decided to wait five more minutes, then leave either way.

He was keeping a hopeful ear out for his alpha, listening to the going on in the bullpin a little more than was normal, when he heard the front door open and the heavy tread of a large man. He looked up through the window and saw a man approach the receptionist desk. He was blond, tall, with wideset eyes and a nervous twitch. He wasn’t Derek, so Isaac sunk back down, no longer interested, but still keeping an ear out.

Debbie called out a friendly hello and asked if she could help him. 

“Is the Sheriff in?” the man asked, speaking slowly, as if he was either high or messed up in the head. 

“Not at the moment. Can I take a message?”

“I need to talk to the Sheriff.”

“You’re welcome to wait, but he isn’t in.”

“I need to talk to the fucking Sheriff right now!”

Stiles frowned, clearing hearing something now, pausing his video, and cocking his head to the side. “What’s going on?”

A shot rang out, the sound nearly deafening in the small space. Isaac ducked down in reflex, sliding off the couch onto the floor. Stiles shouted out Debbie’s name and headed straight for the door. Isaac grab him around the waist as he went passed, pulling him to the floor.

“She’s alive.” He hissed, as Stiles struggled to get to the door. Isaac hated that the human’s instinct was to run to danger when he was so much more breakable than a wolf. “I can hear her heart.”

“What’s going on?” Stiles demanded far too loudly, and Isaac shushed him. 

The Sheriff’s department had erupted into chaos. Isaac could hear the deputies yelling at the man to put the gun down and to let Debbie, who was apparently was being used a human shield, go. 

He peaked up, carefully looking in the window just in time to see the man point blank shoot one of the officers in the head. 

Isaac cursed, then flinched so hard it hurt, pulling Stiles even tighter against him. “Oh fuck. Oh Jesus. Oh fuck.”

“What’s going on?” Stiles repeated, struggling against Isaac. “What the fuck is going on?”

Isaac lost track of things for a while, going a little numb. It wasn’t until Stiles managed to away from his grip and was once again creeping towards the door that his mind came back online and he tackled him to the floor once more. 

“Stiles get down,” he whispered again. “You get shot; you die. Just stay down.”

Isaac took a few deep breaths. He was terrified and edging towards panic, but he had to keep Stiles safe. Which meant staying out of sight and silent.

Stiles was somewhat calmer, almost eerily still and eyes a little blank. He grabbed Isaac’s hand again, squeezing it tight. 

“Eyes.”

“What?”

“Your eyes are flashing.”

He ran a tongue over his teeth to find them sharp and his claws were out as well. He was lucky he hadn’t cut Stiles’ hand. Isaac reached out and grabbed for his anchor, for his pack. He forced himself to think of his new family, the love he felt towards them and received back. It calmed him enough that he felt his beta shift fall away. 

He pulled out his phone, texting the pack group text to tell them what was going on and to stay away. He figured it was only a matter of time before the whole town knew and he didn’t want the pack to panic and come racing in. That would definitely get one of the humans hurt, and with Isaac’s luck, it would be Stiles. 

He could hear the shooter walking around. The two remaining deputies and Debbie still had heartbeats, all in the same area of the bull pin. There was a jingle of keys as someone locked the front door, and Isaac felt a fresh wave of panic, knowing that no one would be coming in to save them.

Stiles had his phone out as well, a text open to his dad, but nothing was typed.

He looked up, eyes wide and stinking of fear. “I don’t know what to tell him.”

A door slammed, making both of them flinch. 

“He’s checking the offices for people.” Stiles said, turning his phone on silent without sending any texts and motioning for Isaac could do the same. 

Isaac crawled over and closed the blinds on the door. He knew it wouldn’t be enough but it might keep them out of sight long enough to hide better. 

“Get under the desk.” He commanded, pulling the chair out. He thought they both would fit. Stiles was pretty small and although tall, Isaac was good at fitting in tight spaces.

“No.” Stiles looked a little more focused as he looked around the office. The shooter was getting closer, Isaac could hear his footsteps. “No. We need to go out. He can’t find us in here.”

“He won’t find us if you just get under the desk.” 

“No. No we can’t.” 

Isaac grabbed Stiles, trying to shove him under it, but Stiles put his hands up beseechingly. 

“Listen to me. This guy wants the Sheriff. There are pictures of me with my dad all over this office. If he finds us in here and puts it together, he’ll use me to get to my dad.”

Fuck. Stiles was right. And Isaac knew that he would to whatever it took to keep his dad safe, no matter the danger to him. If they left now, they had a chance. 

“Follow me.” Isaac kissed him softly once last time, just in case. It was sweet and it made Isaac sad. But he didn’t have time for that. He broke away then pulled Stiles out the door just as the shooter reached for the handle. 

For a moment, Isaac considered trying to overpower him. He was strong enough, but with Stiles so close and the shooter armed, he decided to wait for a better opportunity. Instead, he bumped into the man, before throwing his hands and cowering as the man took aim, gun flickering between them.

“Don’t shoot us. Please, please we’re sorry. God, don’t shoot us.”

The shooter hesitated; gun still pointed too close to Stiles’ head for comfort. “Who are you?”

“Isaac Lahey.” He didn’t see the point in lying about himself. “My dad. I just came in to get my dad’s death certificate. We heard you shooting and hid. We’re sorry please don’t hurt us.”

The shooter’s eyes narrowed, his finger twitching. “And him?”

“I’m Mitch. His boyfriend.” Stiles voice cracked perfectly. “I just came for moral support. Please, please, we’re sorry. Just let us go. No one needs to know we were here.”

Stiles put on a good show. Actual tears were streaming down his face and he sounded wrecked. If Isaac hadn’t seen him face down monsters, he would think that he was actually moments away from losing it. 

The shooter’s face twisted, finger on the trigger. Isaac moved a little closer to Stiles, so his body was completely shielded by Isaac’s. 

“Fuck.” The barrel of the gun dropped and Isaac let out a breath. “Go sit with the others.”

Isaac took a step, pulling Stiles with him, when the shooter called out for them to stop. 

They stopped, both their hearts beating wildly, but all the man didn’t suddenly realize that Stiles was the Sheriff’s son, nor did he go in the office. All he did was check their pockets and take their cell phones, throwing them on a desk. He was quick with Isaac, but his hands lingered a little too long on Stiles’ ass and the kid whimpered. But it didn’t go any further than that before the man was pushing them towards the other hostages. 

The others were sitting on the floor in the middle of the bullpin, far from the windows, phones, or computers. There were three others still alive, Ramirez and one whose name tag read Holt as well as Debbie. There was also a body on the floor near the entrance to the building. The hostages all had their hands handcuffed together with their hands around the desk legs so there was no leverage to get free. The desks were bolted to the floor, so there was no way to tip them over either. Whoever this guy was, he knew what he was doing. 

There weren’t any extra handcuffs, or at least the man didn’t want to go look for any, so Isaac and Stiles got to keep their hands free but were threaten that if they weren’t within view all the time, the shooter would break them. He then proceeded to pace the room nervously, occasionally checking the windows like he would be able to see anything through the still heavily falling rain. 

Isaac took advantage of the man’s distraction to focus on their situation. It was bad, but it could be worst. He and Stiles weren’t tied up. No one was critically hurt. The first shot fired hadn’t hit Debbie and she seemed fine, if a bit of a sobbing mess. 

Someone would figure out what was going on soon. Either a cop would try to come in and not be able to, or someone would call the office and not be able to get through. The man would make his demands, and eventually either get what he wanted, or the SWAT would storm the station. No matter what, Isaac would be fine. It would take more than normal bullets to take him down. 

But not everyone in the room had supernatural healing abilities. 

He glanced at Stiles, who wasn’t looking so good. He was pale and sweating, his eyes focused on the dead deputy on the floor. 

“Stop looking.” Isaac hissed, hoping the shooter wouldn’t overhear. 

Stiles didn’t. “His name was Charles. Charlie Dart. He’s been here forever. He was my t-ball coach.”

His heart was jumping erratically, enough that it was worrying Isaac. Stiles seemed to carry a naturally high heart rate, but this was pushing it. 

Isaac slowly reached out and placed Stiles hand on his own. Stiles had had plenty of trauma in his life, they all had since the explosion of werewolfism in Beacon Hills. But there was something special about the terror of having to sit still and helplessly wait for the awfulness to be over. To be stuck, unable to do anything at all to save yourself. 

Isaac understood the fear, and he could see Stiles struggling. By all right, he should be doing the same. But he had spent too much of his childhood in hopeless situations, locked in freezer or being beaten, to not know how to mentally compartmentalize. 

“Here is what you are going to do. You aren’t going to think about that right now. You can do that later. Right now, you are going to trace the chemical symbols of every element in the periodic table into my palm. And don’t even pretend you don’t have it memorized. I know you do.”

Stiles managed a weak smile and a shaky nod, then slowly began to draw on Isaac’s hand. He didn’t know enough to be able to tell if the symbols were accurate, but the important part was that Stiles was no longer focused on the dead body. 

It was quiet, other than the shooter muttering to himself. Twice Holt tried to make conversation with him, but both times the man was told to shut up. The second time Holt got pistol whipped across the face. No one talked after that. Isaac was pretty sure the deputy was unconscious. 

Isaac watched the clock, tracking the seconds. It was nearly eight, which meant they had only been held captive about an hour, but it felt longer. 

Every second felt like an hour, every heartbeat an eternity. 

Stiles had finished the elements and had moved on to tapping out a beat to his favorite songs. Isaac had correctly guested two so far, whispering the titles nearly silently. Holt was still unconscious and Ramirez seemed to be meditating, doing some forceful deep breathing. Debbie had finally stopped crying but was still occasionally hiccupping, the only sound in the room. 

The desk phone rang, making everyone in the room jump. 

The shooter went to answer it, being careful to avoid the windows now. An angry conversation followed, but the shooter made no demands beside to talk to the Sheriff, and Isaac couldn’t hear anyone outside. So either the caller hadn’t know there was a hostage situation, or the SWAT team was set up far enough away that he couldn’t hear. 

Stiles leaned in close while the shooter was distracted. “I remember this guy now. Something Carter. His son was involved in a hit and run. Tons of evidence against the guy, and he was an ass when they tried to arrest him. High speed chase and everything. But the dad kept saying he didn’t do it.”

“This seems like a pretty extreme way to try to convince the police your son is innocent.”

“The son died in police custody. It was an aneurysm. It could have happened anytime, but of course it burst while he was in jail awaiting trial. But his dad tried to sue, said it was the police’s fault, that they ruffed him up. There was an investigation and everything. But even the state said it wasn’t the police’s fault.”

Fuck. Suddenly keeping Stiles’ identity became even more important. Who knows what the man, what Carter would do if he found out he had the Sheriff’s son in his grasp. 

“Shut up! Carter yelled in the phone. Isaac’s attention jerked to him having lost track of the conversation going on. “Get the Sheriff on the phone in the next hour, or I start shooting hostages. And I’ll start with the kids.”

Carter slammed down the phone and resumed his pacing, the tension in the room going up tenfold. Ramirez stopped meditating was watching the pacing shooter. Holt was still unconscious, though he was beginning to stir. Debbie opened her mouth like she was going to say something to Stiles, but instead resumed crying, silently this time, instead. Stiles simply went back to tapping beats against Isaac’s hand.

Isaac forced himself to once again stay calm, focusing on the pack bonds and on keeping his control. He wanted so badly to take the shooter out before things got worse. Before Stiles got hurt. 

But the way Carter held himself, the way he had prepared for this, he had to have some sort of training, either military or police. And he was likely ready for the hostages to turn on him, especially in a police department. Isaac was fast and strong, but unless he was certain he could take him down to the ground without getting shot off. It wasn’t worth the risk in someone else getting hurt, or someone figuring out there was something unnatural about Isaac. 

The minuets passed slowly. Isaac felt like his already enhanced senses had been dialed up even further, but everything began to blur together in an overwhelming mess. He could hear every drop of the slowing rain on the roof, every beat of Stiles’ still racing heart. He could smell the fear that saturated the room, and the desperation of Carter, as he made yet another lap around the desks, his pistol tapping on his leg with every step. He could taste the sweat dripping down the man’s face, the bitter taste of gunpowder still in the air.

It was all too much, but not enough. Isaac shuttered, closing his eyes tightly so no one would see them flash. 

Stiles’ hand stopped it’s frantic tapping and grabbed his instead. He held on tight, and all at once Isaac felt him wolf calm, the animal inside of him completely contented. 

He opened his eyes, the feeling of being overwhelmed completely gone. 

“Are you alright?” Stiles whispered. 

Isaac nodded.

“Good. Can you hear anything outside yet? Is my dad here yet?” 

He nodded again. Now that his senses weren’t so overwhelmed, he would focus again. “I think so. I can hear people at least, lots of talking and arguing. Maybe SWAT. I hear guns being prepped at least.”

“No.” Stiles was talking so quietly Isaac could barely hear him, so there was no way that Carter could. “No. The nearest SWAT until is over two hours away. Budget issues.”

“So we wait.”

Stiles nodded. “We wait.”

\------  
They didn’t have to wait long before the phone rang again. Isaac was grateful. Every moment they waited gave Stiles to come up with a ridiculous plan that would doubtlessly put him in danger while saving everyone else. Isaac couldn’t let that happen.

This time Stiles stayed silent while Carter picked it up so Isaac could hear both sides of the conversation. 

“This is Sheriff Stilinski. Who am I speaking too?”

Carter smiled wickedly. “Henry Carter. My son was Trevor Carter, the man you killed.”

“And who is in there with you?”

“A couple deputies. One is decidedly a lot more dead than he was before. Your bitch of a secretary. Oh and the kids.”

“What kids?” Isaac could hear the panic in his voice, no doubt putting together with kids might be at the station. Moments later, Stiles phone lit up on the desk, thankfully still on silent. 

“Some brat and his boyfriend. They’re young, just like my son was. They should have their entire live ahead of them.”

There was a long pause. “What can I help you with Mr. Carter?”

“You can get your ass in here so you can die.”

There was the sound of a scuffle on the other end, like someone was trying to take the phone from the Sheriff, but he stayed on the line.

“That’s not how this works Mr. Carter. Even if I wanted to, no one here would let me. But maybe we could come to another agreement. I can get you proof that no one killed our son. I can show you the documents that prove it was an accident.”

Even Isaac knew that was the wrong thing to say. Carter immediately tensed back up, his scent white hot with rage.

“Do you think I believe for a fucking second what those documents say? Those documents that you created. They lie, just like you do!”

“Alright, listen, listen to me, I believe you. I do. And I want to truth too. I will help you find it, I swear. Give me a change to-”

“Enough.” 

Carter pulled up Isaac and forced him in front of the window, his body blocked by Isaac’s for any sniper shots. He held the gun up to his temple and Isaac went still. At point blank range, a bullet to the head would kill him, werewolf or not. 

“You have thirty minutes to get in here. If not, I kill a hostage every ten minutes you wait. And I’ll start with the boy.”

Carter hung up the phone, walking backwards until he was far from the window, before shoving Isaac back down beside Stiles. 

Stiles let out a small sob, before frantically grabbing on to Isaac. 

“Fuck. I can’t do this Isaac, I can’t.”

Isaac clutched him right back. This was escalating too quickly. “I know. It’s okay. We’ll get through this. I promise.”

“Hey.” Carter’s voice was sharp. “You kid, get over here.”

Isaac went to stand, but he was stopped. “Not you. The other one.”

Stiles climbed to his feet, stumbling and knocking a pile of files to the ground in his hurry to get to Carter.

Isaac tensed, preparing to make his move to take out Carter, but Stiles shook his head as he had walked too close to the shooter. Carter grabbed his hand and pulled him close, running a hand over his check. Isaac bristled with anger at the touch, but thankfully, he let go quickly, shoving him down the hall, watching him the entire way.

“Go and get me a drink.”

Stiles hurried to obey and Isaac let out a breathe, grateful that was all he wanted from Stiles. There was a crashing noise of glass breaking and then Stiles raced back in with his arms full of bottles.

“I didn’t have any change.” 

Carter looked amused. “So you broke it. That sounds like something Trevor would have done.”

Stiles shrugged then handed him a Coke. “I water for us too. If that’s okay.”

“I don’t care.” 

Stiles nodded, then went to the deputies one by one, giving them sips of water, before handing a bottle to Isaac. Carter ignored them completely, talking loudly to himself about how the guilty would pay, eyes darting from Stiles to the windows.

Stiles sat down beside Isaac, cracking a new bottle for himself. He looked at Carter, who was still murmuring to himself but no longer watching Stiles, before whispering to Isaac. “So what’s our plan?”

“I’m not sure.” Isaac took another sip. “Maybe wait for your dad to come in then I’ll rush Carter.”

There was no doubt in his mind the Sheriff would do anything to save the hostages, even if he didn’t know his son was among them. 

“I don’t have anything better.” Stiles shrugged. “Just don’t let my dad get hurt.”

“I’m not letting anyone get hurt.”

Stiles smiled slightly, giving Isaac a light peck on the lips before changing the subject abruptly. “Where do you want to go for dinner tomorrow?”

Isaac smiled back even though he was so terrified he could puke. “Maybe we can order in.”

\------  
They continued to wait, because they didn’t have a choice.

Deputy Holt had woken up when Stiles gave him the drink, but still seemed dazed, leaning against the desk he was chained to. Debbie was doing the same, clearly still in shock. Ramirez was the only one who looked like she could be of use when the time came. If she wasn’t also chained to a desk. 

Isaac slowly formulated a plan. He would wait until the Sheriff came in. He would surely announce himself, sidetracking Carter who would probably have to give some sort of speech. Then he would make his move. He would throw Stiles to the side, hard enough to keep him down but not hard enough to hurt him. Then he would go for Carter with his bare hands.

Isaac would have to be fast. He would have to take Carter down, dead or not, before he got a shot off. Or else the Sheriff might get hurt and Stiles would never forgive him.

It would be hard and he would be seen by at least one of the deputies, but he didn’t see any other way. 

It was a decent plan. At least until Stiles phone started light up with a phone call, again and again. It was on silent but face up on the desk. The constant lighting up was noticeable to all the hostages. Everyone kept glancing at it and Isaac worried that Carter would see it as well. And if he did, it was going to put even more attention on Stiles, who Carter already paid too much attention to as he paced the room. 

And he did, of course. 

“Why the fuck does this phone keep going off?” He demanded, stalking over to the desk where the phones were sitting. 

“Fuck.” Stiles face was completely white and he reeked of fear. 

“What the fuck?” Carter picked up the phone then his mouth twisted. “Looks like someone wasn’t being entirely honest.”

He stalked over to Stiles with single minded purpose. The deputies were both struggling against their handcuffs. Holt started shouting, trying to stop him. Isaac shoved Stiles behind him, raising to half a crouch protectively in front of him. 

Carter fired a shot right by Isaac’s head. He flinched down despite himself, and the shooter took that opportunity to kick him out of the way.

He grabbed Stiles by the shirt and pulled him to his feet, shoving the phone in Stiles hand, the gun tight against his head. Stiles didn’t look like he was breathing, holding the phone loosely, eyes shut tight. 

Isaac froze, too afraid of getting Stiles shot to move. He prayed the office phone would ring and cause a distraction, that SWAT would get here, that someone would save them.

“Maybe you can explain to me,” Carter said slowly, “Why when this phone rings, a picture of you and the Sheriff comes up?”

“Its because,” Isaac prayed Stiles woudn’t be a smart ass as he opened his eyes and his mouth. 

“Because. He’s my mentor. I’m what’s considered at risk youth. The school assigned me a mentor, to keep me out of trouble. It doesn’t mean I like him. I barely know him. He only does enough to keep the school off his back. He doesn’t care about me either.”

“Then why,” The gun was so tight against Stiles head it was leaving a mark. “Why oh why does it say dad across the screen?”

Fuck. 

Stiles looked terrified. And smelled it as well. And he was right to be. They were so incredibly fucked. 

“Here is what’s going to happen.” Carter smiled was one of pure evil. “You’re going to call your father back. You’re going to tell him where you are. And once he is good and panicked, you are going to tell him that if he doesn’t get his fucking useless, corrupt ass in here in the next five minutes, he is going to know what it feels like to lose his son.”

Stiles clenched his teeth, nudging the gun down slightly with his head. “So you can kill him? I don’t think so.”

“You’re brave, I’ll give you that. But you’re stupid too. Because what do you think I will do to you if you refuse?”

“Go ahead and kill me.”

Isaac’s heart clenched so hard it hurt, a soft noise of pain tearing from his mouth. He didn’t know who to fix this. He didn’t know how to save them.

He wasn’t the only one who reacted. Debbie wailed an almost unhuman noise, while both deputes shouted out for Stiles to shut up. It distracted Carter marginally, his attentions slipping from Stiles to the others as the gun moved off his head a fraction of an inch. 

“No.” 

Isaac relaxed slightly, but Carter wasn’t done. 

“You may not care if you die, but who is this room are you willing to sacrifice your dad? The old man? The pretty cop? How about the grandma?”

Carter held the gun on each of the hostages in turn, before moving to Isaac. “How about him? Is he really your boyfriend? He acts like one. Will you let him die to save your father?”

Cater was still close enough a shot to the head would probably kill Isaac. He felt the fear creep up his throat, burning like bile as Stiles met Isaac’s eyes. His gaze was hard, like he had already decided something and for one horrible moment, Isaac though he would let Carter shoot him.

“No.” It was a whisper, but Isaac heard it over the deputies who were still yelling and Debbie’s crying. 

“What?” Carter demanded. 

“No.” It was louder this time. “No I’ll call him. Please don’t hurt them. Don’t hurt Isaac.”

“Do as I say, and I won’t have to.”

Stiles dialed the phone with shaking hands, putting the phone on speaker so everyone could hear after Carter ordered it. His dad picked up on the first right, frantic before the call even began. 

“Stiles? Oh my God, Stiles I’ve been calling you for ages. Where are you?”

“Dad?” It was a sob.

“Stiles. Son. Please tell me you aren’t inside the station right now.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. The jeep crapped out and I was waiting on you.” Stiles had tears running down his face, but he was slowly calming down, as if just hearing his father’s voice was enough to soothe him. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. I’m okay. He hasn’t hurt me or Isaac. Or Holt, Debbie and Ramirez. Charlie though. He’s dead.”

“Jesus. Fuck. That’s awful son, but we can’t worry about that now. We need to worry about you. Where are you? Are you hidden or does he know you’re calling me?”

Stiles’ eyes flicked to Carter’s face, before turning slightly to face the window. “He’s here. He told me to call you.”

Carter had backed off slightly, gun pointed at Stiles’ chest now, instead of his head which was a slight improvement. He was also watching the phone instead of the room, which meant he didn’t see the way both Holt and Ramirez were frantically messing with their cuffs. 

“Tell him,” Carter hissed. “Tell him now.”

“He said to tell you that you have to come in now, right now and give yourself up to him, or he’s going to kill me.”

Carter looked crazy, grinning madly. “Beg him for help. Tell him to save you.”

Tears streamed down Stiles face and his hands were shaking. “Dad please.” 

Isaac hated this, hated hearing how broken Stiles sounded. “Daddy please. Don’t let him kill me. I don’t want to die. I’m sorry, please, forgive me.”

Stiles paused, looking up at Isaac with an odd look on his face. It was apologetic and a little sad, completely out of place for the terrifying situation they were in. 

“I’m sorry” He whispered so quietly only Isaac could hear him, and his heart dropped, petrified by what stupid thing the boy he loved was about to do.

“Dad, he’s lying.” Stile said, turning his back and blocking the phone with his body so that it couldn’t immediately be taken away. “There’s a bomb. He’s going to kill us all, he just wants you in here too. Don’t come in here!””

“You fucker!” Carter screamed, violently attacking Stiles until he ripped the phone from Stiles’ hand and dropping it to the floor. There was a madness in his eyes that reminded Isaac a bit of the look his father wore when he locked him in the freezer for the first time. It froze the blood in his veins making him feel as powerless and weak as he did as a human child. 

It wasn’t like the movies. Time didn’t slow down. Isaac didn’t suddenly see everything clearer, magically able to absorb everything all at one. He didn’t see a bead of sweat drip down the shooter’s face while he slowly pulled the trigger. Stiles didn’t stubble back, clutching the wound as he dramatically fell, his name on Isaac’s lips.

Instead, things got blurry, as time moved in skips and jerks. Isaac smelled the gun going off before he heard it. Stiles jerked back, red blossoming on his shirt as he fell in a heap on the ground, pissing his pants as he dropped. 

Isaac didn’t remember moving, but suddenly he was next to Stiles, his hands hovering, unsure of how to fix the gaping wound in his chest. The smell of blood in the air was so strong it gagged him, and he turned his head to the side, heaving up bile. 

Somewhere a million miles away someone was screaming. Carter was yelling, threatening everyone, telling them to shut up. He could hear the deputies outside panicking, the Sheriff shouting orders to move in, someone else saying not to, to call the bomb squad.

Stiles was trying to talk, the words murky around the blood bubbling up. Isaac’s mind finally caught up with what was going on, and he pressed down hard on the wound. 

“Don’t.” Stiles finally got out. “Don’t let him kill my dad.”

“I won’t. I swear. Just please stay awake please, stay awake.”

Isaac didn’t think he had ever been this scared. Not when his dad lost his temper, drunk out of his mind, and snapped four of Isaac’s ribs. Not when his mother died or Cameron was deployed and left him all alone. Not when he was bitten, not when the kanima was on the loose. Never. 

Because Stiles was dying. Isaac was sure of it. He could hear the blood gurgling in his lungs, and his eyes were glazed over, no longer tracking movement. His skin was going gray and going cold.

He wanted his Alpha to come in and take over, to fix everything. Derek might be a gruff, brooding asshole, but he would know what to do. He would know how to fix this. He had saved Isaac. He would save Stiles too. 

Several things happened at once. Ramirez jerked out of her cuffs; a paperclip shoved in the key hole. Apparently, she had stolen it off the files Stiles dropped, on purpose Isaac suspected, and had worked herself free. Holt shouted as she did, distracting the shooter for that precious moment she got free and keeping her from immediately being shot.

She threw herself at Carter just as the doors opened and a line of police rushed in, guns drawn. Carter shot at Ramirez and she fell to the ground but he didn’t even get a chance to aim at the Sheriff and the other before he fell in a hail of bullets that exploded so loud that Isaac lost all hearing, despite his healing factor. 

Stiles hand was cold on top of his, warmed only by the hot blood that was still flowing despite the pressure. He looked down at Stiles, wanting to scream for help but everything still felt distant and wrong. He couldn’t focus, his mind flickering from the deputies clearing the room, to Ramirez screaming, to Carter’s skull scattered across the floor.

He looked down. Stiles was saying something, frantically grabbing at Isaac with the hand not on his chest. He twisted his free hand in Isaac’s shirt, trying to pull him down closer. Isaac obeyed, finally getting close enough to hear over the incessant ringing in his ear. 

“What?” Isaac asked, shaking Stiles slightly as his eyes drifted away from Isaac’s.

“I” Stiles insisted, looking frightened. “Isaac, I”

“I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

“Eyes.” 

Oh. Isaac blinked hard, clearing the yellow from his eyes. He didn’t even know he had partially shifted, but he was amazed that Stiles was able to focus enough to notice it.

“Son!” The Sheriff’s voice was loud and panicked as he slid in beside Isaac, completely ignoring the rest of the deputies still doing their job and securing the room. He pried Isaac’s hand of his son’s chest, eyes going wide when he saw the damage there. 

“You’re going to be fine.” He said, pressing down even harder than Isaac had been. A fresh wave of blood covered the Sheriff’s hand almost instantly. 

Stiles’ eyes focused on his father, putting free his hand over his dad’s.

“Love you,” He slurred, looking from his father to Isaac. Stiles smiled, a weak and broken grin, that showed the blood on his teeth, before his eyes rolled back and he went limp.

“No. Don’t you dare.” The Sheriff was franticly trying to wake his son, dangerously close to hysterical. Isaac hate it. It was what Carter wanted. He wanted the Sheriff to hurt and he was clearly in agony. Too bad he was too dead to notice. “Please son, don’t.”

Stiles didn’t wake, his heart slowing dangerously.

“He’s dying.” Isaac whispered, reaching out as if his touch might save the human, even though he knew he would never be enough. He wasn’t an alpha, after all. He couldn’t turn Stiles.

“Medic!” The Sheriff shouted wildly into the chaos around them. “Medics!”

Stiles heart began to stutter as the EMT’s arrived. They tried to move Isaac, but he screamed, refusing to leave Stiles’ side. Hands were on him, the deputies rushing over to try to hold him down and keep him away from Stiles but he thrashed, throwing them off until he was beside his human again. 

Stiles was deathly pale as the EMT’s ignored the drama going on beside them and. One started pressing dressing on the wounds, keeping much more steady pressure than either the Sheriff or Isaac had managed. The other had a concerned expression as he stared an IV line to begin pumping fluids back into Stiles. 

Isaac’s hands were shaking, tacky from the drying blood. He just. He didn’t understand what had gone so wrong. He had had a plan. No one was suppost to get hurt. 

Stiles wasn’t supposed to get hurt. Not Stiles.

The EMT’s looked worried now, very worried. Isaac could smell it over everything else. Words like “compromised airway”, “collapsed lung”, “dropping blood pressure” and “Loosing him” were being throw around frantically. 

One picked up a needle the size of Isaac’s arm, drawing back as if to stab Stiles’ right in the chest. 

Isaac screamed again, wild and feral, throwing himself at the man who would dare hurt his human. But before he could rip that foolish man’s throat out, a pair of strong arms grabbed him about his middle. 

“Isaac.” Derek’s voice was right in his ear. “Stop.”

Isaac went limp. It was an alpha order, but it was more than that. It was finally having his alpha right here, finally having someone he could trust to take over. 

“Derek,” he sobbed, pressing his face into Derek’s chest and pawing at him with his bloody hands. He couldn’t think of words to explain the awfulness of what had happened. “Derek.”

“I know. It’s okay. I know.” 

They watched the EMT’s inflate Stiles’ lung, then force a tube down his throat to help him breath. They added more and more dressing to the wounds and got him on a backboard. They almost had him loaded onto a stretcher when his heart stuttered to a stop so dramatically that even Derek whined.

They waited for it to restart under the EMT’s compressions. Derek’s face was blank, and the Sheriff was sobbing. Isaac felt so numb it hurt as he listened to Stiles’ ribs snap under the EMT’s hands. 

The room was silent save for the sobs of the Sheriff, as every cop in the room waited with bated breath. Finally Stiles’ heart started back up, and the EMT’s jumped back into action. Isaac thrashed against his alpha’s arms, trying to get back to Stiles, but Derek stayed strong, refusing to let him go.

“Save him,” Isaac screamed, panic hitting him now that Stiles heart was beating again. “Derek, you have to bite him. You have to turn him. Please, please, I love him.”

“I can’t.” Derek sounded wooden, almost distant, but Isaac could smell the salt from his tears. “His heart. He couldn’t take it. It wouldn’t take. It’s up to them now.”

The fight drained out of Isaac until he was once again limp, but luckily no one had noticed the crazy things he had said. Everyone was staring at Stiles instead, and the activity around him as the EMT’s worked to stabilize him. Everyone was watching to see if the Sheriff’s son would die. 

“You have to save him.” Isaac said again. Derek didn’t respond, but stayed beside him, a consoling presence in the terror. They watched Stiles be whisked away, the Sheriff following behind. 

Isaac felt empty as he looked at the puddle of blood on the floor, its scent thick in his nose. Derek let him go, though he kept a comforting arm around his shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

\-------  


He didn’t get to leave right away. They EMT’s had to check him over. He was covered in blood after all, and no one believed he was fine.

Once deemed uninjured, the police interviewed him. They went slow, almost cautiously, like they were afraid of him breaking. Isaac would be offended except he felt moments away from losing it. Still, he told them all he could remember, hoping it would somehow help.

He was on the third retelling of the story with the third new deputy, when he went silent, the words suddenly too big and thick in his mouth, strangling him. Derek who had been patiently waiting beside him, gruffly informed the police they would have to finish any other questions in the morning. They were done. 

Isaac was quiet on the ride home. He buckled his seatbelt, then curled up into a ball the best he could while still in his seat. He still felt dull and distant, like everything was too far away. Derek looked at him worriedly, but he was too tired to care. 

They got back to the loft quickly. Isaac wanted more than anything to simply fall into bed, but Derek steered him away from his room, instead leading him to the upstairs bathroom. 

He stripped Isaac down gently, taking away his filthy clothes and pushing him in the shower. Isaac washed himself automatically, then he simply stood under the spray his mind playing over the night over and over until the water went cold. 

He pulled on his pajamas and went into his cold bed. He grabbed his pillow and pulled it close, desperate to have something to hold on to. 

Issacs didn’t cry often. It had been beaten out of him at a young age. But tonight, tonight with the scent of Stiles’ blood still on him even after the shower, he let himself break down. 

He sobbed, big messy tears that left him breathless. Snot rolled down his face and his eyes burned. 

He didn’t hear Derek come in, too distracted by his pain, but he felt his hand rubbing comforting circles on his back. He let go of the pillow, trading it out for his alpha. He wasn’t sure of Derek would react, but he didn’t’ move away, and continued to hold him close. 

“I know.” Was all he said. 

They stayed that way a long time, until Isaac’s head hurt and he was out of tears. 

“We were suppost to go on our first date tomorrow.”

Derek said nothing, but instead let him talk. “We’ve only kissed once and spent most of our time together arguing. But there was something there. Something special, maybe even once in a lifetime. I think I could fall in love with him. I think I might have already. And now he’s going to die.”

“He’s not going to die.”

“He might. The blood-. Derek, there was so much blood.”

“He won’t. He won’t leave us. He won’t leave you.”

“You don’t know that.”

Derek ran a hand over his neck. “I know the way he looks at you. He’ll fight for you. He’ll fight to stay with the pack. He’s going to be fine.”

Isaac could only hope he was right, as he stared into the darkness and let sleep pull him down.

\------  
Isaac woke up with long hair in his face. Blond, shiny hair. He grunted, rolling over to see the sun rising over the edge of town, a beautiful view from the loft window, and Erica’s sleeping face. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, pushing her none to gently to wake her, too tired and grouchy to deal with his pack sister’s antics this early. She groaned but turned over instead of waking. 

“Like we would leave you alone.” Boyd answered instead from the foot of the bed where he was curled up and apparently had been sleeping as well. “After everything that happened last night.”

Just like that, the events of last night came rushing back. Isaac whimpered, waking Erica properly and causing Boyd to move up closer on the bed so his head was on Isaac’s legs.

“Jackson wanted to come too, but his parents had him and Lydia in San Francisco for some charity dinner thing all night. They were supposed to be gone all weekend, but they’re driving back right now.”

“How did they even know something happened?”

“You were on the news.” Erica said with a yawn, pulling herself up and wrapping her arms around his waist. “But we knew before that, even without your warning text. Derek said it’s because the pack is getting stronger. We could feel your fear.”

Boyd glowered at nothing, looking murderous. “We felt Stiles get shot too.”

Isaac didn’t know what to stay to that, so he simply laid in bed and let his packmates waller all over him, their present comforting him more than their words ever could.  
The downstairs door opened with a groan and Isaac heard Derek come in and immediately walk up the stairs. 

He came in the room, took a look at the pile on the bed, then joined it without question. He took the side of the bed Erica wasn’t on, one arm behind Isaac, the other reaching over to play with Erica’s hair mindlessly. “I called you out of school.” 

Isaac had forgotten it was a school day, his stomach dropping at the reminder even if he didn’t have to go. It felt wrong that something so mundane could still exist, after the night he had had. 

“Good.” Erica said with a smirk. “I didn’t do my English homework.”

Derek kicked her gently over Isaac’s legs. “Not you. Or Boyd. You have missed enough school, and we don’t need to publicize that we’re all dangerously dependent on each other. It’s like advertising for hunters we are in a pack.”

Erica pouted, but didn’t complain, knowing he was right. They stayed in bed a few minutes longer, until Derek made them get up.

They got around slowly and began to get ready to face the day, taking turn in the bathroom and pulling on clean clothes, in the case of Derek and Isaac. 

Derek’s phone went off with several consecutive texts while they were eating cereal, or in Isaac’s case, watching it slowly get soggy as he stirred it around. Isaac wondered where his own phone even was. He was certain it didn’t make it home last night. Maybe the cops still had it.

Derek scent went thick with anxiety and everyone stopped eating to watch him read the texts. 

Fear creeped up and Isaac finally asked the question he had been dreading since the moment he woke up. “Is it Stiles?”

Derek winced and turned his phone screen off. 

“Melissa has been keeping me up to date. He was in surgery all night. The bullet went into his chest cavity and bounced around. It did a good amount of damage. His lung was collapsed and there was a lot of internal bleeding. He lost a lot of blood.”

“Is he dead?” Isaac asked bluntly as his heart fluttered in fear.

“No!” Derek’s eyes flashed red. “No. He came through surgery. He’s still unconscious and probably will be for a while.”

“Then why do you smell like that? Why are you hiding your phone?”

Derek swallowed hard. “There is some concern about possibility brain damage. He stopped breathing a few times, not to mention the lack of oxygenation due to the blood loss. They won’t know how bad it is until he wakes.”

Isaac stood, nearly upsetting his full bowl of cereal. “Take me there.”

“It’s family only. They won’t let you in.”

“I don’t care.”

“Fuck that, we’ll all go.” Boyd said, surprisingly angry. “We’re all his family.”

“Not to the hospital you’re not. You and Erica are going to school. Isaac, you can stay here with me.”

“How could we possibly focus on school right now?” Erica demanded, standing with her hands on her hips. “We need to be there.”

“You won’t even get to see him.”

“I don’t care!”

Derek roared, eyes bright red and they all backed down slowly. Boyd looked frustrated and Erica looked scared, but they gathered their backpacks and walked out the door without any more arguing.

Isaac still felt numb. He wondered how much of Stiles might end up missing. If he would wake up and not remember Isaac. Or not remember werewolves at all.  
If he would wake up at all. 

“Come on.” Derek ordered, wrapping an arm around Isaac and pulling him after the other betas. He smelled of sadness and it made Isaac sick. 

They all silently climbed into the car. Derek dropped Erica and Boyd off at school with an apologetic look and a promise to call them the second anything changed. They seemed pacified as they walked into the school, but Isaac could bet they ended up skipping out as soon as Derek pulled away. 

Despite his arguments, Derek took Isaac to the hospital after they dropped off the other betas at school to meet with Melissa. She didn’t have any new updates other than he was still sleep even though he wasn’t sedated anymore. She apologized for not being able to get them in to see Stiles but she did take them to a semiprivate waiting room that was at least on the ICU floor. It was as close as she could get them.

The waiting was agonizing. There was too much commotion and noise on the ICU floor for Isaac to be able to hear Stiles, but Derek could. There were perks to being an alpha, and one of them was even more advanced hearing than that of the betas.

He assured Isaac that Stiles’ heart sounded strong and that none of the nurses going in and out were saying anything worrisome. Isaac just shrugged and waited some more.

They spent most of the day waiting. Derek stayed close and Isaac appreciating the extra comfort. He had been scared many times, but he had never had someone to turn during it. It was nice.

Derek, on the other hand, seemed to have a hard time waiting. His hands were constantly tapping, and he got up to pace more than once. He went and got sodas, then later some fast food because neither of them really wanted cafeteria food but were finally getting hungry. Melissa came a few times, bringing updates that they had already heard from the eavesdropping on the nursing staff. Isaac just sat and waited. 

It was nearly time for school to be out when Derek suddenly sat up straight, head cocked to the side as he listened to something Isaac couldn’t hear. 

The Sheriff, still covered in his son’s dried blood, ran out of the room yelling for help, and Isaac felt his heart skip a beat. Derek put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed hard.

“He’s awake.” Derek said as a team of nurses and doctors rushed the room.

Things were chaotic for a while, as Derek relayed Stiles slurred and confused answers to the doctor’s questions. No, he wasn’t in pain. He knew where he was and what had happened. 

They took him out for some additional testing, and Isaac got a glimpse of Stiles face, pale and tired, but no longer gray with the touch of death. 

They brought him back and it was universally decided that Stiles did not have brain damage. The nurses called it a miracle and Derek smelled of pure relief. The Sheriff left his son’s room, presumable to change out of his bloody clothes and Stiles fell back asleep. He left the hall, tears streaming down his face and Isaac took his chance. 

He slipped into the room, leaving Derek outside to keep watch. It was dim, the lights turned down so Stiles could sleep, but Isaac didn’t need them.

Stiles looked horrible. There were wires and tubes everywhere, and so many machines that all looked important. A mask over his nose and mouth fogged with every breath. He stunk of antiseptic and dried blood, even the faint scent of infection just under the skin. Isaac would have to warm Melissa about it before it got worse. 

But none of that mattered, because Stiles was waking up, blinking up at Isaac with bright eyes. Eyes that clearly recognized and remembered Isaac. 

“Hey.” He rasped out. “I might need to reschedule that date.”

“Oh my God.” Isaac raced to the bed, gripping the hand without the IV and holding it tight. “Oh my God Stiles.”

He started pulling the pain out of the human, grateful to find that there was very little under the cover of the drugs. “You scared me. You scared me so much.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said, blinking heavily, then rubbing his throat with his free hand. Isaac let go, turning to the table where a full pitcher and plastic cup were sitting.

“Here.” Isaac held up the glass with a straw, letting Stiles have a few sips before pulling it back. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said again. “I didn’t. I couldn’t let them hurt my dad.”

Isaac hesitated. He wanted to be mad, he really did. But for whatever reason, he didn’t feel anger. He only felt grateful. 

“I don’t suppose I can get you to promise to never do it again?”

Stiles blinked heavy eyelids, already sliding back into sleep. Isaac would be worried, except the nurses had already warned the Sheriff that Stiles would sleep a lot for the next few days. 

“Nope.” He slurred out, reaching out for Isaac’s hand. “There is nothing I won’t do for the people I love.”

He drifted off, but Isaac stayed watching the rise and fall of his chest, the wolf inside of himself finally satisfied now that it could see that Stiles was alive. 

“He told me the same thing when I asked.” 

Isaac jumped and made a move to leave, but the Sheriff waived him back down. 

“I wondered when you would sneak in here. I’m not mad son.” The Sheriff cut him off before he could explain again. “I get why you did.”

They sat in silence for a bit. 

“You know, going through something like a shooting, it can make you feel things. Things you might not feel otherwise. I know you guys weren’t super close before, and now”

Isaac did cut him off this time. “I loved him before, or at least I wanted to. I just didn’t think he felt the same. I was wrong. What I saw, what we went through. It doesn’t change anything. We have feeling for each other. We talked about it yesterday, before Carter even came in the department.”

The Sheriff looked started, then surprised Isaac by laughing. “Of course. Only Stiles would make a move then end up in a hostage situation the same day. Well maybe he will stop pinning now. I didn’t think he could wax poetically about anyone more than he did about Lydia, but he proved me wrong talking about you.”

“He talked about me?”

The Sheriff grinned at him. “Not by name. But he would go on and on about this boy at school who he like so much, but who never even noticed him.”

“Oh.” Isaac smiled fondly at Stiles’ sleeping form. “I did notice. I just. With my dad. I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t be out, you know.”

The Sheriff nodded in understanding. “I’m glad you feel comfortable being true to yourself now.”

“I am.” Isaac yawned, exhausted now that he was certain Stiles was alright, or at least as alright as he could be.

“Have a seat son.”

He took the offered chair, the Sheriff taking the other. They stayed there all night, both dozing on and off as they kept watch over the boy they both loved.  
\-----  
Stiles got moved to a regular room the next day. The pack was in and out constantly. Someone was always there, especially when the Sheriff had to go back to work and deal with all the mess a shooting in the Sheriff’s department made.

Isaac stayed all the time, only going back to the loft to sleep when Derek made him, and only if either Scott or Derek was there with Stiles.

Stiles slept for the most part. When he was awake, he and whatever pack member was there generally just watched TV until he drifted off again. No one talked about the shooting, and Isaac and Stiles certainly didn’t talk any more about the change in their relationship. 

But Isaac thought about it. A lot. He thought about how week and useless he felt when Stiles was bloody and hurt. He thought about what the Sheriff said about traumatic events creating feelings that weren’t real. 

He thought about how he failed to protect Stiles. How he failed to take care of him before they even started dating. 

And Isaac decided that as much as he wanted to, as much as he cared about Stiles, as much as he already loved him, he couldn’t do this. He didn’t deserve him and he was certain if they moved forward, he would fail yet again. Stiles would get hurt and Isaac woudn’t be able to take it. 

But he also couldn’t make himself leave. He needed to be beside Stiles even if it would have been kinder on them both to walk out before he got even more attached. 

Isaac stayed there and helped Stiles to the bathroom. He was there when food didn’t stay down and Stiles threw up all over himself and the bed. Isaac stayed where Stiles cried from the frustration of being exhausted all the time. 

Isaac stayed, but he didn’t hold his hand. He didn’t brush his hand over Stiles cheek to wipe way his tears. And he only brushed kisses to his forehead when Stiles was pulled so deeply into unconsciousness by the drugs that he didn’t even stir. 

Eventually Stiles didn’t sleep all the time. He was able to stay awake and carry on a conversation. He got off his supplemental oxygen and was able to stomach food. And finally, Isaac’s heart didn’t jump in fear every time Stiles closed his eyes. 

By then, Stiles was ready to go home, and he was letting everyone know it. He complained often, and thought it was out of boredom and not out of ungratefulness to the staff, it was tiring to hear. Melissa said it would be at least two more days before they let him go and Isaac was more than ready.

“What do you want to eat? I mean, when we leave. What do you miss?” Isaac asked with a frown, as Stiles picked at his hospital meal. He hated that Stiles wasn’t eating properly knowing it could slow down his healing.

“Not this. This is awful. I want something good for us to share. Like a burger in fries, or Chinese with egg rolls. Or pasta!”

Isaac smiled. He shot Derek a text asking for him to pick them all up some food, knowing the alpha would bring something from a restaurant. He had been spoiling Stiles rotten, bring him anything he might need, clearly overreacting the fact they had almost lost him.

“I’ll have Derek bring something by when he comes over later.”

“No, not right now. Thought that would be great” Stiles made a face as he chewed his bite. “I meant on our date. I want something extra good.”

Issacs froze and Stiles’ face fell. He backtracked in a panic ramble, smelling of nervousness and a hint of fear, hands flailing as his face flushed. 

“Or do you not want to go now. I mean, a lot has happened. And I get it if you changed your mind. It was a stupid idea anyway, and we’ll do better as packmates and you’re right we shouldn’t go. We’ll just be friends.”

Isaac fixed him with a long stare, unable to think of anything to say. He had half hoped Stiles would forget about the fact they kinda started dating the same day he got shot.

“I want to go.” Isaac said finally.

“But you just said you didn’t want to. I mean, you didn’t say it, but you also don’t look happy, like at all.”

“No I want to. It just that.” Isaac’s chest felt tight and he didn’t know how to explain how he felt.

“Do you still like me?”

“Yes, of course.” If anything, watching Stiles stubbornly recover only made him love him more. He loved how strong he was, and how even thought he had almost died, he still was able to make jokes and laugh, when all Isaac wanted to do was cry all the time. 

“Good because I still like you. So once I get out of here, we’ll finally go out and have some privacy.” 

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, but Isaac didn’t think it was funny. 

“I want to Stiles, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Stiles huffed and rolled his eyes. “God, what is with you werewolves and self-flagellation. Stop being so angsty and just do what makes you happy.” 

Isaac flashed his eyes. “What about this make me happy?”

“Ummm, maybe I do? That’s kinda the goal of a boyfriend.”

“You make me happy? Happy. Stiles, you make me crazy. You terrify me, the way you run into danger halfcocked like you’re invincible. You make me laugh with your stupid sarcasm. You make me want to kiss you every time you chew on a pen, because your fucking lips are just damn.”

Stiles grinned, leaning forward but Isaac pulled away.

“But happy, let me tell you seeing you there on that floor, it did not make me happy. In fact, it almost killed me. I think, if you had died, it might have. And all we had done was kiss. What happens if we get closer? What happens if I love you, really love you, love you more than I have ever loved anyone, and this happens again? I don’t think I could ever recover Stiles. I think that if I love you, it might be it for me.”

“Isaac.” Stiles put down his fork, waving his hand for Isaac’s. He obliged, holding onto his hand tightly.

“You know that being in a pack is dangerous for anyone, and even more for a human. And I have no intention of taking the Bite unless it is the only option. I’m going to get hurt from time to time.”

Isaac bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He wasn’t going to cry. “I know.”

“But I like you Isaac. I like you so much it hurts. You’ve been here for me this entire time, when I’ve been at my weakest. You’ve seen me cry and hell, you helped me wipe my ass. I want you Isaac and not just as a friend.”

“Then promise me that you won’t do that again. Promise me you will stop putting yourself in danger and trying to save everyone.”

Stiles cocked an eyebrow and Isaac continued.

“I want you to promise that you will never put yourself in unnecessary danger. That you won’t trade your life for anyone else’s- not even mine.”

Stiles smiled crookedly. “You know my dad asked me for the same thing. I couldn’t promise him, and I won’t promise you either.”

Despite his best efforts, a tear slipped out of Isaac’s eyes. He wiped it away angerly, letting go of Stiles hand and turning away. 

“But I can promise this. I can promise I will think of you first, before I run headlong into danger. I can think about how my decisions effect you. I can promise I will do everything I can to stay alive. Because my life is yours and yours mine.”

It wasn’t what Isaac wanted. He wanted to keep Stiles locked away and safe forever. But that was never going to happen. It wasn’t who he was. 

And that was why he love him so much. He turned back around with a soft smile.

“Alright.” He leaned in close. “Even though this whole thing has been backward as fuck, I’ll go out with you. That way I can tell people I’m dating the man I love.”

Stiles laughed, reaching out with both hands, his smile like sunshine and for the first time since Carter came into the Sheriff’s department, Isaac thought things might actually be alright. Isaac bypassed the outstretched hands and carefully arranged himself on the narrow bed with Stiles. 

“So, Chinese?

“It’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't generally my ship, but it seemed to work well for this story. I had a great time writing it and I hope you enjoyed it as well!


End file.
